


Bucky Barnes One Shots

by Why_Hello_Fellow_Human



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, CA:TFA, Captain America: The First Avenger, Don't worry, Happy Bucky Barnes, Hurt Bucky Barnes, I have no idea what I'm doing, I wanted to write, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm bad at writing but whatever, It's only in one of them though, Light Angst, Light-Hearted, Memory, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Recovered Memories, Short Stories, Sorry Not Sorry, Sporadic Updates, Steve Rogers Dies, Torture, cuz idk what all to write, gimmie recommendations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:20:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27536689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Why_Hello_Fellow_Human/pseuds/Why_Hello_Fellow_Human
Summary: Basically, it's just a few one-shots I'm gonna be writing every now and then. Updates will be random; no schedule. I'm not sure all of what kind.
Relationships: Stucky, could be seen as just friends - Relationship
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The 1st chapter is lighter angst. So far as I'm concerned. At least, no one's dying. Just.. idk, just read it.
> 
> P.S. This is based on the scene where Bucky is at the Hydra base repeating "Sergeant James Barnes." and his numbers. It's a bit before Steve finds him, anyway.

Fire was surging through his veins. He vaguely remembered needles, big ones, sinking into his skin. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Needles. Fire. Captured. World War 2. Nazis. He thought back, fighting through the fog that was concealing his memories. Probably from shock, he guessed. _James Buchanan Barnes. Sergeant. _  
As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he saw a window where streams of light eased through. The walls were made of brick, and some non-suspicious looking items were on some shelves placed by the wall. If he wasn’t chained up to some metal bed he might have believed this was just some ordinary storage bunker.  
_“Steve,” he gasped under his breath as he recalled the scrawny kid from Brooklyn. The room was empty, thank god, so no one heard. He silently cursed himself for being so stupid as to make any sound.  
Bucky tried to lift his arms, but the intense pain coursing through him with the cuffs keeping him down on the metal bed didn’t really stack the odds in his favor. He took in a sharp breath as another fierce bolt of pain shot through him. Sweat dripped in his eyes, making them burn. The room felt too hot, the air too stuffy. ___

I’m going to die, aren’t I? 

He swallowed, even the simple movement hurting against his throat, and closed his eyes again, hoping that maybe the pain would end. A promise. I made a promise. He forced his breathing to calm and focused on the small figure he felt slipping into remembrance. 

__

__

____

____

_”Hey, Buck! Wait up!”  
Bucky turned around to see a familiar face, dirt distributed through his usually blond hair that looked to be soaked with sweat. “Yeah, what’s up, Punk?” he asked, slinging an arm around the small man’s shoulders when he got into reach.  
“The 107th, right?”  
“Yeah, Steve. Tonight’s my last night, which is why we were trying to go to the world fair. Not get you enlisted and lined up to get killed.”  
Steve sighed and shook his head, not wanting to argue. “Yeah, sorry about that. Actually, I’m not really very sorry but that’s not the point.”  
“What is it, then?”  
Steve smiled up at him, though it wasn’t as bright as they usually were. He took in a breath and looked down, letting the silence fill the air for a while longer, before he spoke. “Don’t get killed Buck, okay?”  
“That’s not really my choice, you know. I mean, I’ll try but you never know when someone’s gonna give you lead poisoning,” Bucky replied, a slight smirk on his face as he tried to regain the lighter mood.  
Steve looked up, straight into the taller man’s eyes. “Promise me, Buck. I don’t die, you don’t die.” He held out a hand ready to shake.  
Bucky hesitated, holding the gaze before he took out his left hand and took Steve’s with a firm shake. “Deal,” he agreed. “I’m with you to the end of the line.”  
Steve visibly relaxed and leaned against Bucky again, the care-free smile back up. “So, since we didn’t really get to do much, I don’t really know how to dance yet.”  
Bucky laughed and walked with Steve, patting his back. “I can teach you when we get back. Give you something to look forward to.”  
Steve nodded. “That sounds great, Buck.” ___

____

____

Bucky clenched his jaw. He had to keep the promise. For Steve. For the little punk that was out on some army camp, probably lagging behind all the rest on runs. He had to remember, had to hang on. “Steve Grant Rogers,” he mumbled. “Camp Leigh.  
“James Buchanan Barnes. Sergeant. 107th. Three, two, five, five, seven, zero, three, eight.” He kept repeating the words like a mantra, over and over, constantly reminding himself of why he had to stay alive.  
And in truth, it was simple. He had to stay alive for Steve. So that he wouldn’t return and find out there was a ‘missing in action’ letter with Bucky’s name on it. Because if it were the other way around… Bucky shied away from the thought, instead focusing on his promise. _To the end of the line. No way am I there yet, punk. Don’t worry. ___


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm BACK. This one's a bit happier, no worries. It's a pre- CA: TFA memory, and you'll figure out what's in it once you read. This is extremely short. Perfect for a short attention span.  
> The song lyrics are 'Did you ever see a dream walking'. If you've got the time, I suggest listening to the Gene Austin cover on Spotify.  
> Here's the link: https://open.spotify.com/track/6QdVMgvkOHoHIio53DdtbJ

-*Did you ever see a dream walking?*  
*Well, I did*  
*Did you ever hear a dream talking?*  
*Well, I did*  
Bucky stepped back and forth in rhythm, a smaller figure dancing in his arms. “Watch it, you’re stepping on my shoes, Steve,” he grumbled.  
“It’s not my fault your feet are so big!” the blond retorted.  
“Is that what you’re going to say when you actually get a partner?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk on his lips. “If you want to learn, you’ve got to actually try.”  
“Well, my partner isn’t going to be a giraffe of a guy, I can tell you that,” he muttered, having to tip his head back just to see Bucky’s face clearly.  
“Mhm. Maybe you’re just short,” he teased.  
“Oh, stuff it. If you’re going to try and teach me, you might as well teach.”  
“Patience,” Bucky chuckled. “Are you still goo-goo eyeing that Margie Strewl doll?”  
Steve gave a half-hearted shrug, glancing over the paintings of deer and wildlife all over the walls. “Not really. I think I got my eyes on someone else now.” He looked back up into his friend’s eyes, noting how they looked when Bucky was relaxed and happy like this. It was definitely better than the worrying looks Steve received when he was sick. “Besides, Buck Buck,” he smirked, earning an annoyed groan from Bucky, “Margie obviously has a crush on Johnny. And it’s not your business, anyway.”  
“Hey, what’s with the dumb nickname? I thought you said you wouldn’t use it,” Bucky griped.  
“Just like I thought I told you to stuff it,” he shot back.  
The taller spun the other around before pulling him back in. Steve stumbled on his way back to Bucky. “How do girls spin without falling over?” he questioned. “It’s hard. And annoying.”  
“You know, I could always just not teach you. I do have a good book I can go back to.”  
“You wouldn’t.”  
“Why wouldn’t I?”  
“Because you’re not like that. You’re too nice.”  
Bucky chuckled and turned, closing his eyes and letting the music guide both of them as the music took over.  
*Did you ever have a dream thrill you with*  
*“will you be mine?”*  
*Oh, it’s so grand and it’s too, too divine*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, be sure to let me know. If not, let me know what's wrong with it so I can figure out how to write things a bit better.  
> Thanks for reading, adios!  
> (Adios means "goodbye" in Spanish)

**Author's Note:**

> If you've got any constructive criticism, that would be much appreciated.


End file.
